


Clocks and Time Pieces

by bgltshaw (likeswimmingg)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, G!P, M/M, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, trans!Lexa, trans!bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeswimmingg/pseuds/bgltshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy Blake keeps finding reasons to get his car fixed by mechanic Raven Reyes. Rellamy Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clocks and Time Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Sup y'all. So there aren't a lot of Rellamy fics on here, so I decided to give it a go. This is a fluffy multi-chapter fic about trans boy Bellamy Blake with hints of Clexa (Lexa is trans too). Let me know what you think and comments/kudos are appreciated. Follow me on Twitter (@spacerellamys) for general Rellamy & Clexa things x

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's having some car trouble.

“Do you know how long this is going to take?” Bellamy growled, pleading with the cashier with a pool of sweat dripping from his brow. It’s nearly ninety degrees in Brooklyn and his dark curls are falling onto his face one by one. “I have work in an hour and I can’t be late.”

“Nope, can’t say. I’m just the cashier sir,” the woman replied, clearly disinterested.

Bell puffs out a dramatic sigh and decides to take matters in his own hands. He walks towards the glass door that leads to the mechanic’s station, but not without being somewhat reprimanded by the cashier, (“you can’t go in there, I- ok, whatever.”) but he didn’t care. Bellamy wasn’t about to risk getting fired from Penny House his second week on the job.

It wasn’t his first barista gig, but having to find a new job for the second time in two months would be daunting. Bell finally liked the people he was working with - especially Monty and Lincoln - they seemed like pretty decent guys. Unlike Starbucks, they were friendly and didn’t judge him, not that he would disclose all the details of his personal life. But regardless, it was nice to know that even if he wasn’t stealth, they’d still be kind to him anyway.

“Excuse me,” Bell walked around his car that was currently being worked on. “Is my car going to be ready anytime soon? No one seems to want to give me a straight answer.”  
A young Latina woman with grease all over her uniform rolled out from underneath Bellamy’s 2008 Nissan Altima. The girl took her stained gloves off and stood up at her full stature. She was a head shorter than Bellamy, but that didn’t stop him from being slightly intimidated by her.

“It’ll be finished when I’m done with it,” the girl spat out, inching closer to the older Filipino man. Bell looked down to her nametag that read “Reyes” and looked back up to her brown eyes. There was fire in them - she was clearly angry for the disruption and it was growing harder and harder for Bellamy to ignore her satisfying features. He internally cursed himself for making assumptions - he was expecting someone heftier.

I need to stop having preconceived notions about gender, he thinks, remembering what Octavia had told him a few months ago; that there were “more than the binary genders” and that they were just as valid as he was. Even Lexa has educated Bell in the past - she encouraged him to take Feminist Theory with her last semester and it was very eye opening for him.

“Well could you let me know a time at least? I’m running late.”

“No,” Reyes snarls. “You did a real number on your Altima, it’s gonna take some time, chump. But I’ll tell you what.” She grabs a card out of her pocket with a greasy thumbprint in the corner and hands it to Bellamy.

 _Raven Reyes_  
_Head Mechanic_  
_Reyes Auto Center_  
_1115 Bay Parkway, Brooklyn, NY_

“Call at 5pm and ask for me. I’ll let you know the status of your car... only ‘cause you’re cute,” Raven says, giving Bellamy the up and down before rolling back underneath his car. Bellamy is frozen, stuck in his place while he hears the crank of what he assumes is a wrench, and storms frantically out of the auto center.

“You forgot your receipt buddy,” he hears called after him, but he couldn’t be bothered. His head was swimming and he began to grind his teeth, a consistent bad habit.

_Breathe, man. Breathe._

It was 2:32, which meant Bellamy had twenty eight minutes to get to work, so he walks a few blocks to catch the R train. He rides 16 stops, hoping for the best, because the New York City railway system is anything but reliable.

Once Bellamy is settled into his seat on the subway car, he fumbles with the business card the cheeky mechanic had given him a few minutes prior. He replays the words you’re cute over and over in his head, quite affected by the implications.

It’d been months since anyone had even looked in his direction, or so he had thought. Ever since his breakup with Gina a few months back, he’d been out of sorts - he couldn’t even look at anyone else, let alone think about kissing them. Most of his nights had been spent with a bottle of Jim Beam and reruns of old soccer games with Lexa.

Bellamy’s best friend hated soccer - she tried to hide it, but he knew. That fact that she watched it with him anyway was what made her such a good friend and roommate.

 _ **Bellboy (2:44pm):**_ sup nerd  
_**Lextra (2:45pm):**_ Nothing, jackass. Working late tonight?  
_**Bellboy (2:48pm):**_ my usual thursday 3-10 shift. some weird stuff happened today  
_**Lextra (2:49pm):**_ Are you okay? If anyone hurt you, you know I’ll kick their ass.  
_**Bellboy (2:48pm):** _ no nothing like that. I’ll explain later nothing to worry about tho. see you later lexington

Bellamy loved Lexa like a sister, he was so overjoyed when they met. Bell had seen a flyer for a queer group and met a bunch of other trans young adults there, including Lexa, a few years back. They didn’t always get along - Bellamy’s stubbornness and Lexa’s uptightness got in the way during most meetings, but they eventually got to know each other and learned how to cope with their differences.

Their experiences were quite different too - Bellamy was kicked out of his foster family’s home at a young age and bounced around from group home to group home until he was eighteen.

Lexa’s parents died young, but she inherited their riches at eighteen. Her uncle Gustus was very supportive and took care of her for most of her life - and Lexa has a supportive girlfriend who makes would never judge her for a second.

They came from such different backgrounds, but at the core of it all, Bellamy and Lexa understood each other’s struggles and always checked up on one another. To them, that’s what counts.

Bellamy checks his watch as he half runs half walks through the front doors of Penny House Cafe. He breathes a sigh of relief as he throws his apron and hat on and scurries over to the counter to begin his shift.

“And with a minute to spare,” Finn smirks. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to write you up after only your second week here. That’s a lot of paperwork I don’t want to do.”

“Sorry man, I had some car trouble this morning,” Bell breathes out, grabbing a bunch of lids from one of the cabinets. “I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful for the job, because I am,” Bell continues while starting on a customer’s order.

“I figured you were nice enough, helping me with our Latin America presentation and all. I owed you one,” the white boy with the soft looking hair replied, fiddling with the espresso machine. It whirred to life with a few pushes of a button. “Who knew you had such a hard on for history.”

Bellamy was handing change back to a customer when he felt his palms begin to sweat and his heartbeat increase at a rapid pace for the second time today. This time was for an altogether different form of anxiety - an all too familiar one.

_10, 9, 8..._

Did Finn know? Was he going to say anything even if he did?

_7, 6, 5..._

“I uh - yeah, I like it,” Bellamy stutters out, adjusting his hat and motioning for the next customer to place their order. “Don’t worry about the presentation, I’ve got it covered.”

_4, 3, 2..._

“Sweet,” Finn smirks smugly while Bellamy tries to talk himself out of a full blown panic attack.

_1…._

After the line of customers dies down, the Bellamy excuses himself to the men’s room and throws cold water on his face. He grips the sink harshly stares at his reflection in the mirror for a while.

He expects to see a trace of something feminine, the image of his former self before the hormones. Instead, he runs his hand along a sharp jaw and stubble forming evenly along his chin. It’s habitual for him, but it makes Bellamy slightly less dysphoric and panicky as he had been a few moments ago.

Just a typical day in the life of Bellamy Blake.

//

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bellamy scoffs as he enters his apartment, throwing his bag onto the couch adjacent to Lexa. The television was already set to a pre-recorded soccer game and a bowl of popcorn and a diet Coke awaited Bellamy on the coffee table - a routine Bellamy’s roommate had started when they first became friends. Bell doesn’t have bad nights often, but when he does, Lexa knows soccer and rationalizing things are the only ways to make the Filipino boy feel better.

Bell rummages through the fridge for something stronger than diet Coke, but his efforts are useless - they ran out of beer last night during a game of flip cup.

“The game is on,” Lexa offered. She was lounging in sweatpants and a tank top with her long locks tied up in a messy ponytail - her usual attire after track practice. “Italy vs. France.”

“Ah, our teams are up against one another,” Bell says as he ungracefully places his bag onto the floor and settles his body down onto the couch next to Lexa. He grabs his diet Coke and cheers his best friend. “Well, the team you like because ‘their jerseys are nice’ as you so eloquently said when you were shitfaced the other night. You’re on.”

During the commercials Lexa tells Bellamy about her day - she always manages to overbook herself, a way to stay busy Bell thinks. Lexa takes twenty two credits a semester as a Political Science and Business Administration double major all the while being the captain of the track team and juggling a girlfriend.

Bellamy isn’t quite sure how Lexa does it - but she somehow makes it work. He’s been in awe of her ability to manage her time pretty much since they met. She always seems to have everything together when Bell can’t seem to keep a job longer than six months.

But he doesn’t envy Lexa, he admires her. Bellamy doesn’t even have as good of a relationship with his sister - wait, no - sibling, as he does with his roommate. He berates himself for the fuck up, but makes a mental note to call Octavia later.

“How does Chinese sound? It’s on me.” The athlete grabbed some menus and began looking through a few of them.

“Lex, you know I hate when you throw your status around. I have a job, I can afford to pay my own way,” Bell counters, taking a long sip from his soda.

“I know, I just figured since you had a bad day I’d do something...nice.”

“You’re never nice,” Bell throws a pillow at her lightly.

“Hey! Lexa throws the pillow back at the curly haired boy. “What about the time you sprained your foot playing soccer and Clarke and I set up Playstation 4 in your room?”

“You don’t know how to set up game consoles. We both know it was Griff - she and I play Call of Duty all the time,” Bellamy says, now with the upper hand. The brunette rolls her eyes at Bellamy and checks her phone.

“Fine, pay for your own Chinese,” she says handing him the menus. “Are you up for company?”

“Griff isn’t company, you know that.”

Lexa smiles and focuses her attention back to the television. Bellamy’s phone begins ringing in his pocket - an unknown number.

“Are you going to get that?” Lexa glares at Bellamy, his ringtone (the Glee version of Don’t Stop Believing) blaring at a mile a minute. He shakes his head no so Lexa grabs it from his skinny jeans pocket and answers it for him. “Bellamy Blake’s phone, how can I help you?”

Bellamy laughs at Lexa’s professional voice. He hears a lot of words being said on the other line but no inclination as to what it’s about judging by his best friend’s facial expressions. He hates that he can never tell what she’s thinking.

Lexa says a bunch of “okays” and “thank yous” and proceeds to hang up.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

“Your car is ready, Bellboy. If I wouldn’t have picked up your phone, you would’ve never known.”

“That’s weird,” Bell says, checking the watch on his left wrist. “It’s way past 11. Don’t shops normally close around 5?”

“Usually, yes. Maybe you have a secret admirer or something,” Lexa teases, earning another pillow to the face.

“Weren’t you supposed to be treating me to Chinese food?”

//

_“Thank you,” Bellamy says to the cashier who hands him his receipt and the lilies he just purchased. He was in between jobs, so buying the more expensive flowers wasn’t really in his monthly budget. He couldn’t help it though, he was a romantic at heart._

_It was a blistering hot summer day in Manhattan. and Bell was dreading the thought of walking ten blocks to his girlfriend’s apartment. He had no choice though - he couldn’t afford the cab ride after splurging on the flowers for Gina._

_It took Bellamy a sweaty twenty minutes to get to the girl’s apartment complex, but he figured he could freshen up once he got upstairs. He left a clean change of clothes and deodorant for times like these._

_Bell was just excited to see the look on Gina’s face when she catches sight of the flowers. Nobody could ruin Bell’s mood today - not even the pool of sweat dripping down his back from his binder._

**Babexo (1:34pm):** theres a package waiting for you at your door  
**Babexo (1:38pm):** babe? you home?

_After another five minutes of waiting, the barista got impatient, so he used the spare key above the lamp post to get into Gina’s apartment. He figured if Gina wasn’t home, he could at least surprise her with the flowers when she arrived._

_Bellamy finds a pair of scissors in the top drawer adjacent to the sink and cuts the stems off of the lilies. He fills up a vase with water and is in the middle of sliding the flowers into it when he hears a noise from Gina’s bedroom._

10...9...8…

_Bellamy grabs a knife from the kitchen set and holds it close to his side. As he gets closer to the bedroom, he realizes what the sound is: Gina’s bed frame banging up against the wall. He relaxes his shoulders because he knows what’s coming next._

I should’ve known this would happen _, he thinks._

_Bellamy pulls the door open and finds a moaning Gina with her legs spread open and Bellamy’s friend’s face in between them._

_“Bellamy,” Monroe exclaims worriedly, pushing Gina away from her. She grabs the comforter and places it over her body, attempting to hide her nudity. “It’s not what it looks like-”_  
_Monroe at least has the audacity to be remorseful. The look Gina had on her face was something else entirely._

_“Bell, it wasn’t her fault. I invited her here, it’s just - you’ve changed.” Gina inches closer to him and cups his slightly scruffy cheek with her hand, but he flinches and pulls away. Bellamy is fuming. So angry he can’t find it in him to say a thing. “Everything’s different now. You’re not the person I thought you were.”_

_Suddenly he found his voice._

_“You mean I’m not the_ girl _you thought I was, don’t you Gina? And here I was thinking that my girlfriend was okay with-” Bellamy couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Instead he just looked to Monroe and the bunched up sheets on the bed. “I guess I was wrong. We’re done.”_

_“Bellamy, wait!” Monroe’s voice travels through the bedroom and into the kitchen, but Bellamy had already thrown the lilies into the trash and slammed the front door on this part of his life._

_//_

“Clarke, you know I hate this song,” Lexa complains, trying to take control of her girlfriend’s iPod. “Do we have to listen to pop all the time?”

“My car, my music,” Clarke counters, her blonde hair blowing all over the place as she ventured along the highway.

“Bellamy loves One Direction, don’t you Bell?” Clarke turns herself around to face him, his reflection seen in her obnoxiously large sunglasses.

“They’re pretty shitty, Griff,” Bell admits, and Lexa turns around to high five him.

“Two against one, I’m putting something better on.”

“If your definition of ‘better’ is Beethoven, I’m revoking your iPod rights.”

Lexa scrolls through Clarke’s library while simultaneously disgusting with her while Bell watches on. “You made an indie playlist? You hate indie, Clarke.”

“Yeah, but you don’t, babe.”

These idiots loved each other so much they were almost like Bellamy’s parents.

Bell would never admit this, but he missed having someone to share things with, to be stupid with. To party with. Not that he hadn’t done those things before - his ex-fling Wells was always willing to go to different queer clubs, but Bellamy always knew that it wasn’t exactly his scene. He and Wells were just too different, and the other boy couldn’t find it in him to keep up.

“So Bell,” Clarke yells behind her, “Lexa tells me there’s a new girl in your life.”

“Clarke,” Lexa says, warningly.

“What? I’m just making conversation.”

Bellamy is a bit uncomfortable with the question, but he tries not to let it show. He wipes the sweat forming on his fingertips onto his shorts and tries his carries on speaking.

“No, just - someone who wanted me to get my car back in time for work today. She was pretty annoying actually.”

“Didn’t she call you cute?” Lexa chimes in. As much as Bellamy loved Lexa, right now he could punch her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies, sitting back in his seat. Clarke and Lexa drop the subject to continue kissing during red lights and holding hands. Bellamy thought that after two years their honeymoon phase would be over, but no, they’re just as gross as they were when Lexa brought Griff to the apartment for the first time.

They finally arrive at Reyes Auto and Bellamy sees his Altima outside in seemingly good condition - although he wouldn’t be able to tell if his car was functional without testing it out first.

“I’m picking up a 2008 Altima. The name is Bellamy Blake,” he tells the same cashier from yesterday. She looked twice as disinterested as she did the day before and clearly didn’t remember him. She hands Bellamy the keys and he is a bit perplexed. “How much do I owe you?”

The cashier looks through her computer and a few papers she has on her side of the counter.

“There’s no balance listed here. You’re good to go.”

“There has to be some kind of mistake,” Bellamy assures. He was fully prepared to clear his bank account for this, there’s no way new brakes didn’t cost anything. He had to set things straight. “Is Raven here?”

“Yeah, she’s out back, where she usually is.”

Bellamy grabs his receipt from the cashier for the second time in the past twenty four hours, Bellamy goes to the mechanic’s station unwarranted. Almost like a splitting image of yesterday, Raven is underneath a different car cranking a few bolts underneath the engine.

“Reyes, I want to talk to you,” Bellamy is fuming, tapping on the hood of the Chevrolet Raven was working on. She crawls out from underneath the hunk of metal looking annoyed, but Bell didn’t care.

“What is this?” he demands, pointing to the $0 balance on the receipt.

“A receipt,” she answers sarcastically. “Now can I get back to work? Or are there other asinine things you need clarification on?”

“You know what I mean, Reyes.”

“It’s Raven. Only Manny and Tommy from the shop call me Reyes.” Her tone causes Bellamy to backpedal a bit. She did fix his car after all.

“You know what I mean, Raven. I don’t need your charity,” he says aggressively, shoving the papers at her chest.

“It wasn’t charity,” Raven says, throwing the receipt at Bellamy’s head, watching it fall to the floor. “Brake pads, ever heard of them?”

“Yes, I-”

“They’re not that expensive, jackass. But next time I’ll charge you full price - you know, since you don’t accept charity.” The brunette walks around the car and pulls a lever, opening the garage of the mechanic’s station.

Bellamy swallows his pride and walks out to his car with Clarke and Lexa not too far behind him. He hands his keys to one of the other mechanics so he can pull it out of the spot and back into Bellamy’s possession.

“How’d it go, Romeo?” Clarke asked inquisitively, her hand laced together with Lexa’s, as usual.

“Romeo…?”

“Did you get her number, nerd?” Lexa’s interest wasn’t as piqued as Clarke’s was, but sometimes she could be just as messy as Clarke was.

“No, I didn’t. Well - technically I already have it,” he said, pulling Raven’s business card out of his pocket and placing it between his fingertips. “I don’t think she’s into me, she was just being nice.”

“If you say so,” Clarke says, beginning to type aggressively onto her beat up iPhone. The chubby maintenance guy pulls up in front of the three of them and informs Bellamy that the car is ready to go, brakes and all.

“Thanks for waiting guys, and for bringing me. I owe you a taco night out,” Bellamy smirks before getting into the driver’s seat. “Oh and please drop this mechanic thing. You both know I don’t like relationships.”

Clarke and Lexa begin walking back to Clarke’s Jeep when the artist finds what she’s looking for on her phone.

“Doesn’t like relationships my ass.”

“What about your ass? I wasn’t listening,” Lexa flirted once Bellamy’s Altima was out of sight.

“Lexa, you’re the most attentive person I know, please,” Clarke says, cupping her face. “Look at this.” Clarke shoves her cracked phone into her girlfriend’s face. “I found her Facebook. ‘Raven Reyes, head mechanic at Reyes Auto Center.’ Time to stalk,” the blonde says giddily, making her way to the passenger’s side.

“I guess this means I’m driving?”


End file.
